


Boyfriend Toyfriend

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Butt Plugs, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dates with his boyfriend are better than interrogations from his cousin. Unfortunately Ian will have to take the good with the bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boyfriend Toyfriend

When Ian tells the family he’s got a boyfriend when Aunt Kelly asks if he has a girlfriend yet, no one really says anything for a minute. Apparently it’s a bigger deal than he thought it would be. Like maybe he should have come out, instead of just namedropping his boyfriend. 

It’s Shane that finally breaks the silence with “so who’s the boy and who’s the girl?”

Ian looks down the table at him. “Oh, how that works is you’re a fucking idiot Shane.”

Everyone is looking at him like _he’s_ said the shocking statement. Aunt Camilla has a linen napkin pressed to her mouth, for godsakes. Uncle Steven, who usually spears his steak and eats the edges in like a neanderthal proud to have caught the woolly mammoth with his bare hands is cutting the meat into penny sized bites, studiously watching his knife and fork. It’s going to be a long night.

The problem is-. Well, not a problem, Ian’s quite satisfied in bed. But the thing is, Shane’s right. Ian’s not a Lorax, he doesn’t speak for the gays, but his own relationship does work like that. And if he knows his cousin, which he does, Shane’s going to pry until he knows everything, including confirmation of ignorant but correct assumptions. He can only evade for as long as possible, not avoid it entirely.

One thing Ian knows, the damaging talk is not going to be tonight. There won’t be time for it. Everyone will be over until nearly ten, but Alex is picking him up at eight thirty. It’s not the first time he’s left early, and it won’t be the last. All the cousins have a careful balance between having a life and not pissing off the family. That Alex wants to see him tonight is just lucky timing.

With a few minutes left to go Ian escapes upstairs and pulls out his date night box. It’s kind of corny, but Ian has mementos. At least it’s not a scrapbook. The box is full of concrete items, not embossed decorated paper. He loves the way the cologne Alex got for him smells, and his dad has a habit of spraying whatever’s in the bathroom regardless of who owns it. He needs to keep the bottle hidden, so he can ration it. There are his lucky socks, the pair he was wearing when he asked Alex out and he said yes. And of course there’s the Star Spreader.

At exactly eight thirty, Ian gingerly goes down the stairs, keeping his face blank. He hurries a goodbye to everyone as he crams his feet in his sneakers. The replies range from a cheery goodnight from his mom to Aunt Camilla still horrified into silence, to a few mutters byes from the cousins that are sure to write up this incident on their Republican Youth message board.

By far the most noticeable response is Shane, who, sure enough, is already demanding information. “What’s his name, at least?”

Ian’s halfway on the porch before he answers “Alex.”

“Fuck you! Which one?” Shane shouts. Ian slams the door instead. It’s only a momentary revenge, but it still feels nice.

As he rushes down the sidewalk he does think that Shane maybe has a point. He and Alex haven’t been dating a long time, but it’s long enough to realise they don’t do pet names. Which is a shame, really. Ian’s three best friends are Alexes, which makes screaming it out in bed a little weird. Luckily his friends are willing to go by last names. Ian’s now got a Johnson, a Marshall, a DeLeon, and an Alex.

It’s harder to slide into the seat of a car split open the way he is. But there’s not much choice in it. So he sits carefully, and twists at the waist instead of leaning to get the seatbelt on. Alex watches him settle. He leans in for a quick kiss before putting the car back in drive.

“So, what did you do all evening?”

“Had dinner with the extended family. It’s a monthly thing.”

“So this’ll be a post dessert dessert? Don’t think you’re getting out of ice cream just because you already had pie.”

It’s how they start every date. One of Alex’s culinary school friends owns his own dairy bar, and Alex believes in supporting friends. Ian thinks if his friends ever did anything with their lives, he’d be happy to support them. As it stands now, nearly daily ice cream is awesome.

“It’s not. It’ll be the first thing I’ve eaten since noon.”

Alex quickly glances at him before turning back to the road. “But you just said-”

“When I get stressed I don’t eat. Seeing as the last two hours were spent with everyone in the room very blatantly struggling to not ask me what it’s like to be a homosexual, food was not eaten.”

“A banana split then, to cover the four food groups.”

“Grains?”

“Cookie crumbs on top.”

“Meat?”

“Poultry crumbs?”

Ian snickers.

“So, we could go do some kind of event, or we could go back to my apartment and trade in what you’re wearing for something more proactive? I know what my choice is, but you say yours first.”

“We could do an event after sex?” Reminding himself in full detail why he’s gay after such a hassle seems good to him.

“You _are_ wearing it?”

“Of course I am.” Ian doesn’t think they’d break up if he didn’t. Even though it’s really important to Alex that his ass is always waiting for him he doubts it’s _that_ important. But Ian likes wearing it. There’s something about being so sexual in public and no one noticing. There’s something about knowing someone wants your ass so bad you have to keep yourself prepared.

Much to Alex’s happiness, there’s a line of customers in the shop. Ian doesn’t know Colin like Alex does, but he’ll say congratulations when they get to the front of the line. Which is moving at a decent clip, not slow enough for people to walk away in frustration. 

Alex jostles in line, leg momentarily pressing hard against Ian’s ass. “Can you feel that?”

“Of course I can.” It’s not intense. It’s not like the blunt surface of Alex’s leg pushing against his asscheek is two fingers drawing a line up and down his crack before pushing on the base of the plug. But of course he can feel it. Any movement is going to draw his attention to his ass.

They eat in, as always. Alex has a handful of reasons for it; he doesn’t want ice cream drips on the car upholstery, trying to save a sundae until they get to his apartment only means the hot fudge sauce is cold and the ice cream is warm, he likes talking to Colin if/when he’s got a free minute. Ian’s pretty sure all of those are bunk. Alex always holds his fifties deco chair out and pushes it into the table once Ian sits. He’s got a vested interest in the way he sits in public.

Sooner rather than later they’re driving back to his apartment. It’s nicely barely a dump. Alex is only a few years older than him, but he’s got a lot more of his life under control than Ian does. He has a weekend job, he has a clean place to live alone, he has a career plan. He has _throw cushions_.

“So, bedroom or...” Ian trails off. He doesn’t care where Alex fucks him, as long as he does.

“Go bend over the bed,” Alex instructs. Ian does without a second thought. He even shows some initiative and twists out the plug. 

Ian doesn’t know how long he stands bent over, forearms braced on the pillowtop. Alex is barely fingering him. His index finger is only in to the second knuckle. It’s like he’s trying to drive him insane.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Ian will be able to tell how long of a night it’s going to be, depending on what Alex comes back with. Sometimes he doesn’t want him to come for hours. One time he stopped Ian from coming at all, stopped him every time he was close for a whole evening.

Ian can smell the lube before he feels it, and for a brief moment he allows himself hope. And then something that’s obviously jelly, not latex covered skin is nudged against his rim. It’s ridged, vertically not horizontally, more like a snowman than a unicorn horn. Each bulge enters him with a twin gasp. Alex likes watching it as much as he likes feeling it. 

It’s too much to ask that Alex start fucking him with it. Cock means the obvious; Alex wants to fuck him hard. Toys mean his boyfriend wants to draw this out and make him desperate. He’s not surprised when Alex slaps his asscheek and tells him to stand up. “I downloaded this documentary, it sounded interesting.” 

Ian gasps again as he stands up and the dildo shifts inside him. Alex helps him pull his underwear back up. Together they walk to the couch in the next room, Ian awkwardly. The first pressure of sitting down nearly makes him come.

The documentary should be engrossing. It’s all about monoculture; four segments about apples, tulips, potatoes and marijuana and how single growth affects them. If Ian was watching on his own time he’d be fascinated. As it is, all he can focus on is the way every inch of him is just clinging to the toy inside him.

“Can’t even watch a movie, can you? All you can think about is your ass.” Ian highly doubts Alex has paid much attention to something about tulip fever. “Stretch over my lap.”

It takes a series of short movements to get from sitting up and leaning to the left to lessen the direct pressure to laying with his chest on Alex’s thigh. Jostling as much as a quarter inch makes the thing inside him move, and each time it does he can’t help but tense, which makes the stretch even stronger. As soon as he’s down, Alex’s hands are on him, one on each cheek, spreading him.

“Oh fuck. You look so fucking hot when you’re doing this. I wish you could see it. One day I’m going to set up mirrors just so you can see how your ass takes it. Fuck, it just fucking takes it.”

Ian could almost laugh for how complimented he feels. Instead he clenches tight against the graduated balls and shudders.

“ _fuck_ Ian. I can actually see your asshole moving. You don’t know-”

Ian does it again, hoping Alex will catch the meaning. Thank Christ, he grabs the flared base and starts pulling it out. The movement is slow, but when Ian’s clenched around the last ridge before it’s fully out, Alex pushes it back in hard. Ian groans and jams his face against the threadbare arms of the couch. It’s so fucking much.

“Inches wide, and your ass just swallows it. Just takes it and wants more.” 

“Alex-” his words cut off abruptly as the dildo withdraws and slams back in again.

“Want something?”

“Faster.” It’s all he can manage to say before Alex takes the request to heart and starts fucking him passionately. After that his world diminishes to panting, upholstery against his forehead, and the toy in his ass.

It’s hard to say what’s making him rut against the couch more, the fact that his prostate is getting pummelled, or that Alex sounds like he might cream his jeans because of it. His balls draw up and Ian grunts “Alex,” as a warning, as an endearment, as a declaration of love before he comes on fuzzy grey corduroy. Alex arches up as his hand clenches on Ian’s asscheek and Ian can feel the wet warmth spread under his chest.

After a minute Alex pulls the toy out of him. Ian twists his head to look at it. It’s purple and vaguely sparkly. They always look smaller than they feel. “I’ll wash it in a minute,” Alex says, breath still not quite even, before he stands it on its base on the side table.

“Whenever,” he answers. It’s not like Ian’s in a hurry to move. He’s going to be sore, if not now than tomorrow.

So no, in the three months they’ve been dating Alex has never bottomed. But that really doesn’t matter. Not when this is what results. Ian has the urge to text Shane that, but it’ll have to wait. Snarking at relatives ruins the afterglow.


End file.
